viva la vida
by theholmeslessnetwork
Summary: wings of fire, bird of flame, dance around death and play a game. darker thoughts and false desires, mortal sins won't lift you higher. /korra and avatar universe.
1. i used to rule the world

**disclaimer: **don't own, don't sue.  
**dedication: **coldplay, for making me write one-shots at eleven at night.

* * *

She glowed and spun with blue light, her eyes flashing fire, her movements sinuous as water, her expression hard as rock, her feet light as air. She was powerful. beautiful, awe-inspiring. People cowered before her. She was the almighty, godlike, magnificent, terrible _Avatar._

That was then, and now is now.

Now, she held her hands against the soil of Mako's grave, where his cold lips rested, lips she kissed once, lips she coveted for such a long time, lips Asami had until she twined Bolin around her pinky finger. She was so powerful. What was she now? A wrinkled husk mourning a rotting corpse. Ah, but where had her fire gone? Extinguished, just like Mako's breath. So quickly.

She was _weak. _She had all the power, once. She merely had to step onto the streets and people would fall to their knees, fifty years ago. She was young and brash then, a fiery girl in her twenties, in the peak of her health, her power, her life.

But her own earthly desires had smothered it, by the time she was thirty.

She flicked her finger and men fell for her like dominoes. She hungered after mortal lusts, she spent her money exchanging cards under cigarette smoke and a dim light. She fell gradually away from the spirit of the Avatar. She had no desire for it. She was an excellent bender nonetheless and could twist the elements with a kick, a punch, a breath.

By the time she was in her forties, people began to respect her less.

Gossip and rumors, each with sharpened teeth, began to roam the streets of Republic City. The Avatar was smoking. The Avatar had diseases. The Avatar gambled away her money recklessly. The Avatar stole husbands and lovers away from women. The Avatar had begun to bully nonbenders. Some were false. Some were true. Either way she would never confirm them.

Her fifties fell upon her, and people barely had a word for her anymore.

They would cock their heads, glance over her; _who are you? _She would puff smoke, summon a breeze, make a chain of dew and throw pebbles; they would nod, _oh, I know you, you're Avatar Korra._

No longer did they fall to their knees. Then and again people would spit at her.

Sixties. Mako died. Asami and Bolin lived on as a married couple. Korra mourned. She drank more, often with Tahno. He was a rough but agreeable person in his sixties, nodding sagely and tipping back another shot. _That's interesting, _he would say, and his snake-smirk would spread across his lips like they did when he was younger. _Want another glass?_

She would always nod, and down it went.

She's in her seventies now, and all she has to feast upon are empty memories, hollow bones, forgotten names. She still commands respect, but only if she displays power more prominent in her twenties; and even now it takes all she has to summon water, air, earth, and flame.

Her name only spreads if she makes a public announcement, and even that is restricted to the listeners.

She remembers when she was powerful, and she mourns.


	2. seas would rise when i gave the word

**disclaimer: **don't own, don't sue.  
**dedication: **the people who will eventually review this.

* * *

_seas would rise when I gave the word_

He walks along the beach with her, hand-in-hand.

She has the rare, honest smile that he loves, even though he _knows _her feet must be uncomfortable in the sand. He knows her better than anybody else.

He stops. "Would you like to walk on earth?"

Toph shakes her head at him. "I can see you still," and flashes him remarkably white teeth. "You're very clear in my senses, Twinkle."

He flushes, because he _knows _she means that in more ways than the obvious. "I see."

As they walk, he remembers Kyoshi, as a twelve-year-old. He would bask in the praise, glow in the attention the young girls gave him; they admired him, crushed on him, giggled with him and hugged him. He had them in the palm of his hand. It was power he was aware of, for sure, but suppressed. What kind of Avatar would he be, taking advantage of them?

Not like _that, _of course. He was twelve then, naive and as innocent as a polar-dog puppy. He was somewhat aware of the girls, but not very. Monk Gyatso's lecture on the subject _still _left him shuddering to this day.

And then there was Katara. It seemed that he was destined to be with her, but things didn't work out the way they should. He accepted that, over time. He had other things to do, other things to distract himself with. He was perfectly fine.

Of course there was Toph. There was Toph there for the majority of his travels. Witty, crass, rude, smart, and a prankster, yes, but pretty and gracious and humorous and willing to help. He knew that he loved her because he could say those things (even though he would get a sharp punch on his shoulder, which always _confused _him) straight to Toph's face.

But, amongst the faceless women on the nations, he settled for Toph. Warm, familiar Toph, as comforting as the hand in his when the mood got to her.

And Agni above, he loved her to the ends of the earth and the bottom of the sea.


	3. now in the morning i sleep alone

**disclaimer: **don't own, don't sue.  
**dedication: **korrasami artists on deviantart, because damn you guys are good.

* * *

_now in the morning I sleep alone_

Cold bedsheets had never felt so good.

Mako was _hot._

He took up space and warmed the blankets to a degree that Asami felt frustrating. During the weeks they dated, she found she couldn't point this out without him saying something obvious, making it seem like she was almost _stupid - "I'm a firebender, Asami, what do you expect?" - _and this made her want to _ugh. _She felt _degraded. _She knew that probably it was part of his nature, but it didn't help her feelings of inferiority.

In the morning, Mako was still there, which was good and bad. There was that feeling of awkwardness as they faced away from each other, pulling on their clothes and going about their daily activities, largely ignoring the heated last night. But there was the knowledge that he _stayed, _not left her like a common whore.

But when he left, thank _God._

She didn't have to deal with singed pillowcases or blackened blankets anymore, and she woke up in the morning, _alone._

For some reason, it felt better.


	4. sweep the streets that i used to own

**disclaimer: **don't own, don't sue.  
**dedication: **the person who realized iroh might be zuko's dad because agni above i would love that.

* * *

_sweep the streets that I used to own_

The morning after the date with Jin, Iroh made him tea.

He wasn't sure what _kind _of tea, but apparently it enhanced his sentimental side. Whatever that was. Zuko never really thought about sentimentality. There was just no room for it in a war-struck heart.

But a refugee/part time tea shop waiter/exiled prince of the Fire Nation/other, he just wasn't sure anymore.

He drank the tea and looked out onto the streets of Ba Sing Se. Such a bustling city, full of such...variety (every time Zuko thought that, he felt the need to cough out the word _peasantry_) and business, shady or not. He could own these streets, he realized. If the Avatar was to truly strike down his father (and the possibility made him _laugh_) he would ascend the throne...that is, if Azula chose not to interfere (fat chance)...and take down the Earth Kingdom capital.

He could own every business here, every shop, every cabbage merchant. He could own the stones in the streets and the rags off the beggar's backs. He could own the bustling marketplaces and the poker deals made late at night and the assassins that found their way into bedrooms despite unorganized police force's efforts. He could own the Earth King and the Dai Lee and the refugees that fled here. He could own everything here.

To own such a large city, so large it seemed to be a tiny world in itself, entirely overturned Zuko's thoughts. In almost every piece of land there were people. There was settlements and survival. In every mile there was life, no matter how big or how small. Owning territory was not simply _this line _to _this line, _like lines drawn in the dirt - it was _this business _and _this city _and everything in between.

How then, could the Fire Lord ever attempt to manage such an enormous place like the Fire Nation?

The gentle tapping of a fingernail on china startled him out of his thoughts, and he whipped around to see Iroh smiling gently at him. "Tea is best drunk hot, rather then left to cool, for then you are mixing the pure flavor with other things unfamiliar," he said, as if he knew what Zuko had been thinking. He pushed the cup towards his nephew. "Drink up."

He took a sip. It burned his tongue.

"Thank you, Uncle," he said.


	5. i used to roll the dice

**disclaimer: **don't own, don't sue.  
**dedication: **anybody who has ever shipped, is shipping, is considering shipping, or has considered shipping mai and june. why? idk. that's like asking why do you put sugar in your tea.

* * *

_i used to roll the dice_

There was the _thwap _of cards set down on the table, the wood splattered with dark stains (and even June couldn't tell you whether they were blood or alcohol, herself.) A flash of teeth signaled her turn; June furrowed her brow. Why was he breaking his poker face?

It could be a fake. It could be simply emotion he let bubble to the surface. But June _knew _Chao-Xiang_, _and he was too much of a pro to let any kind of feelings show so openly.

She had no choice. She pushed two more coins onto the table.

Chao's grin widened as he put down his cards, displaying a five-card deck of all Fire Kingdom insignias. "Got anything to trump that, June?"

She put down her cards expressionlessly. "Four-winged penguin, badger mole, komodo-lizard, sky bison, wild," she said blandly, but her eyes gleamed slyly. "Four-card Kingdom Animals, plus a bonus. I believe this means I win?"

"Aarrghhh!" Chao-Xiang banged his hands against the table in anger. "You win again, Shirshu Mole. But I'll be back next week, and I swear I'll beat you, mercenary wench!"

She waved her hand lazily. "Bluster all you want, Chao, I'm likely to see you at the bar tonight." There was a low, mocking chuckle from the onlookers around them. Scooping up the gold coins, she shoved them into an already bulging leather purse. "Anyways, I have business to do," she gave a mock sigh of disappointment, "so -"

_Clang!_

The scene lasted barely seconds, and the discarded sword slid with a metallic ring across the floor as June gave a sharp jerk to Chao's wrist, who looked pale and trembling.

"Hey," she shook him like a naughty puppy, "buy that guy -" she pointed with her other hand - "a drink, wouldya? He let me see you coming." She smiled dangerously as Chao-Xiang nodded in frantic understanding. "And next time, don't attack a lady when her back is turned if she beat you fair and square, alright, pal?"

She shoved him aside and walked out the door.

It was so very nice to escape reality once and a while.


	6. feel the fear in my enemy's eyes

**disclaimer: **don't own, don't sue.  
**dedication: **you know who you are.

* * *

_feel the fear in my enemy's eyes_

"Mother?" He sat up in the darkness, shaking off the clinging webs of a shadowy dream. "Mother, is that you?"

She moved towards him. "Zuko?" she asked him softly, in that warm, comforting voice, but this time it was full of fear and hesitance. "Zuko, I have to leave for a while."

"Is this - " He blinked, and moved his hand across the bedsheets, taking in the soft silkiness, realizing he was awake. "Is this a jest, Mother?" As soon as he said it, he realized how stupid it sounded, and he blinked some more; his other hand rubbed at his eyes, taking away the grit. "You - you really have to go?"

His own scared, pale face reflected in her dark worried eyes, and he felt his heart try to beat its way out of his chest. She took him gently in her arms. "Listen to me, Zuko, my love. Everything I've ever done was for you."

"Mother, what are you -"

* * *

" - doing?" She blinks up at him, sleepily. He runs his fingers through her dark, soft hair, long and combed.

"It's a beautiful night, Zuko," she says, turning to look out the window. "Listen. Can you hear the crickets sing?"

Zuko listens, and nods. "It's beautiful. Their song's beautiful." He hesitates. "Mother, you should get to bed."

"Yes, you're right." She sighs. It's a wistful sound. "Ozai was beautiful, you know. He was. He really was. He was like fire."

"Mother," he says. It's a warning chime.

"Fire," she continues, as if she hasn't heard him, "is beautiful. A flaming jewel. But it can destroy. Ozai made bad choices and..." her eyes grow distant, and her hands play meaninglessly in her lap. "...associated with bad people. And he was corrupted. You see. Your father wasn't bad. Originally. And then." She stops, shuts down, like a windup toy.

"It's late," he reminds her.

She sighs. "I know." She rolls over on her cot. "Goodnight, Zuko."

"Goodnight, Mother."

He leaves the asylum. The guards glance at the moisture on his face and say nothing.


End file.
